


three parts to love, or so i believe

by izurulovesboats



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, plant symbolism (if you squint), platonic striphos, will comes to terms with his crush on his apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 12:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19853164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izurulovesboats/pseuds/izurulovesboats
Summary: There's a part of you, you lose, and another you receive.(strife goes to the only person he trusts about this dilemma, and hears some things he probably already subconsciously knew.)





	three parts to love, or so i believe

**Author's Note:**

> someone might kill me for the chosen song for this request

He looked at the cup of tea in his hand, the smell filling his senses with the heavy scent of peppermint. Xephos always made his tea so painfully  _ potent _ . Granted though, something distracting and grounding from his thoughts was exactly what he needed, proving once again that his brother could tell something was up. 

It was that of a carefully practiced ritual, Strife would ask if he could come over, most likely after a tasking day with Parvis, and Xephos would always sit him down at one of the tables littered about Baked Bean Fort. He would always make tea, each flavour different every time. It comforted him to talk about how annoying his machines were being, or how one of his customers annoyed him  _ just enough _ . 

Or how easily Parvis invades his thoughts these days. It was never an issue to block out the bloodmage. Why was it now?  _ Why  _ was it so hard to stop thinking about things that really shouldn’t bother him, like how his smile sticks with him hours after he’s left the castle, or how when he gets close to Ridge or Kirin or some  _ other _ guy, he feels a growl at the back of his throat? What was it that made the lumian think about those molten amber eyes every chance he got? 

He took a sip of his tea, and set it back on the table, taking a breath in the crisp peppermint steam. “So?” Xephos started, sitting on one of the other tables across from Strife with a full mug of tea in hand, ( _ Seriously, who thought sporadically placing these tables was a good idea? _ ) “What’s bothering you, Will?” 

What  _ is _ bothering him? He exhaustedly takes his glasses off, rubbing his face and resting his fingers at the bridge of his nose. All he can think of is Parvis.  _ That’s _ what’s bothering him. This dark and fluffy hair, his thin body, his  _ eyes, oh God _ . He feels his cheeks flush, and he resists the urge to run out of the base. This is oddly hard to talk about, he discovers. 

“It’s— It’s Parvis.” He hushes out. “He’s such a goddamn idiot.” He can’t help thinking about how the apprentice had remembered things that Strife was _convinced_ he didn’t listen to, or how he connected the dots on his own blood magic adventures and figured out things Strife never even _knew_. He was _so_ ** _much_** smarter than he let on, and Strife found it appealing. it was annoying, but… appealing. Promising, even. 

“Everyday I spend with him is a goddamn hassle!” He continues, mouthing into his cup of tea as he takes another sip, “He can’t take care of himself!” He’s only had to ‘save’ Parvis once or twice. He goes overboard sometimes, learning how much he can handle himself giving blood to the altar. Sometimes, it’s too much. That’s why Parvis needed a teacher, why Parvis needs  _ him _ , so that he knows when to quit. At least, he’d like to think so. It’s not like he convinced himself that so he would feel needed. 

..At least, that’s none of anyone else’s concern but his. 

“He only cares about himself, too! It’s always ‘blood magic’ this, and ‘Area 11’ that,” He sighs, the blush on his face brightening, “It just gets utterly exhausting.” Memories of when Strife gets so tired he can barely stand arrive in his mind. Parvis always cared about what state he was in. It was cute. He would always suggest an off day, and Strife thankfully takes the offer. He could always tell when Strife felt like complete  _ shit _ , and Strife could never be happier about that. Parvis could always tell when that day wasn’t a day with Strife and blood magic, and he’d always check in and see if he was okay. God, he appreciated that so  _ much _ . 

He appreciates everything he does, really. He appreciates  _ him _ . 

“But despite all of this, I.. I think I..” He’s at such a loss for words. He doesn’t want to admit it out loud, or at all. He’s not in love. He has a business to run. Why would he  _ ever _ ? He’s not infatuated with the mage. He has no reason to be. Why would he be?

“I think I’m in love with him.”

Goddamnit. 

The response Xephos gives is something that almost knocks him out of his seat. “..Was this not common knowledge already?” 

He’s quick to respond, the accusatory tone bubbling up “What do you mean ‘common knowledge’?!” 

“I mean,” He explains, setting his empty mug on the table beside him. “You’re always going on and on about how he’s such a pain. If he  _ was _ really that much of a hassle, you would’ve sent him back to me  _ ages _ ago.” He raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure these weren’t just buried, or better yet,  _ denied _ feelings?” 

He halfheartedly snorts, “Bold of you to assume I’ve ever been in touch with my emotions.” He sighs, looking worriedly at Xephos as his luminescence pulses, feeling his own anxiety bounce off the walls, “I don’t  _ know _ , Xeph. I can’t stop thinking about every little thing he does. Everything he does for  _ me _ .” He desperately blinks back panicked tears, his eyes darting to his half empty mug of tea. “I’m not used to feeling like.. like  _ this _ ! So head-over-heels, so  _ helpless _ \--” 

He hears Xephos hopping off the table, and suddenly there’s the lumian, kneeling beside him and interrupting, “Strife, it’s okay.” His tone is soft and comforting, and Strife meets his eyes. “You’re going to be fine. It’s normal, to feel like that.” He huffs, “It’s definitely not going to be easy, but I promise everything will work out.” 

He grumbles in response, stress about the whole ordeal still running its course. Most of him doesn’t believe that in the slightest. He can’t calculate the response simply because Parvis is just…  _ like that _ . There’s no way Strife would get a straight answer straight off the bat, let alone at  _ all _ . “..It won’t work out if he doesn’t like me back.” 

“Oh, come on,” he rolls his eyes, “I think you’d know if he didn’t like you. Knowing how he is, anyway.” He gets back up to his feet, gently ruffling Strife’s fluffy blond hair, to his dismay. “It will work out, though. You’re gonna be fine.” Oddly enough, it’s all comforting. He takes a breath, letting himself work through his own panic. He’ll be fine.  _ Soon enough, he’ll be okay. _ “I would recommend telling him when you’re ready, though, Just so the topic isn’t forever setting on uncomfortable air between you two.” 

Strife huffs. “That was the plan.”  _ The plan if nothing goes to absolute shit a few months from now.  _ “Not now, but..” 

“I figured.” He hears Xeph walk off, and he takes another breath in, tasting the peppermint-flavoured crisp air. It was almost comforting now. And on cue, Xephos pipes up again, “Would you like some more tea, Strife?” 

Strife relaxes into his chair again, waiting a bit before replying. “I would love some.”


End file.
